


Door to Door

by sarapunzel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossdressing, D/s themes, Food Kink, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Sub!Sam, dom!Gabriel, girl scout uniform, samgabe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarapunzel/pseuds/sarapunzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's got a new house, new neighbors, and Gabriel has a new outfit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Door to Door

Sam has been busy grading papers all day, after having successfully kicked his brother and his boyfriend out of the house. (It’s impossible to get any work done with the pair of them having loud, filthy sex multiple times a day. Sam's sent them out with a list of mostly-fabricated errands; even though he's perfectly aware that they'll probably end up pulling over and fucking in the backseat instead.) He’s had a few hours of silence in which to work this afternoon, which is rare in this household—he’s nearly made it halfway through the daunting stack of mediocre essays on ‘traditional gender roles in television’. Sam has never seen the word ‘androgynous’ misspelled in so many unconventional ways. It’s frustrating work, but it’s still a welcome change from the usual chaos spilling into his lap. Even if it’s something he’d never risk admitting to the open air, Sam actually takes a certain relish in doing paperwork; something about correcting other people’s silly mistakes with scarlet ink, grading from a tried-and-true rubric, is therapeutic.

But now there's a substantially distressing scene unfolding on the front porch; Gabriel, who’s been suspiciously missing in action all day, is blinking up at him and biting his lip coyly, and he's dressed from head to toe like a bonafide Girl Scout, complete with skirt and badges.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam groans, leaning out the doorway to glance around nervously. The last thing he needs is for the neighbors to catch him chatting casually with a grown-ass man masquerading as an underage girl. "Is that a _skirt_?"

"I'm here to indulge your sweet tooth," Gabriel cooes, his voice utterly saccharine. A kid on a bicycle pedals by in the background, and he nearly plows down a mailbox trying to get a better look at Gabe. Sam seizes the angel's arm frantically, but his tugging is useless against the angel’s mojo. If Gabriel doesn’t want to move, there’s not a force on Earth that can move him.

"Get inside before the neighbors see you! Jesus Christ."

Gabe is grinning and cackling as though he'd like nothing more than for their uptight ascot-wearing neighbors to get a good look at his hairy-man-legs in their cutesy green stockings. "What's the matter, Sammy? Don't you think Mr. and Mrs. Tight Ass would like some Samoas?"

"Don't you dare," Sam growls through gritted teeth. "We haven't even been here a month yet. Can we at least get fully unpacked before the neighbors start showing up with torches and pitchforks?"

"What's the matter? You don't think the Joneses would appreciate a dude in drag?"

"Uh, no. This is the deep south, Gabe. Our neighbors have matching tennis sweaters. I'm pretty sure it's illegal to even have gay thoughts."

"Well, maybe I can widen their world view," the angel quips cheerfully. He wrenches his arm out of Sam's grip and starts backing away down the porch steps, a devilish smirk on his face. Sam stumbles after him, shaking his head in frustration.

"If you don't come inside right now you're sleeping on the couch for the next week," he threatens in an undertone. Gabe's eyebrows shoot up.

"But we don't have a couch yet."

"Exactly," Sam says acidly.

"Good thing I'm an Eagle Scout, then,” the angel chirps, unfazed. “I can pitch a tent in the backyard and sing campfire songs. The neighbors will love that."

"Eagle Scout is a Boy Scouts thing," Sam corrects him.

“Ha!” Gabe guffaws in triumph, pointing at Sam. “You _would_ know that.”

“Gabe, damn it!” Sam whispers urgently as the neighbors' garage door starts to rumble open. "Come inside with me. I'll—I’ll teach you how to tie a knot," he adds, with a wink.

The angel's face glows at this proposal. "What kind of knot?"

"The kind that's strong enough to hold me to the bedpost."

“Ooh, Sammy, I’m quaking in my Oxfords.”

Sam tugs him into the house and closes the door, immediately trapping Gabriel against it. He wraps an arm around the angel’s waist; he runs one hand under the thick, starchy fabric of Gabriel's skirt and presses insistent fingertips into the soft flesh of the Gabriel’s ass. "I was getting so much work done, too," he mutters, centimeters from Gabe's mouth.

"I'm sure you could use a pick me up," the angel replies slyly, edging closer. Sam can feel him hard against his leg, and he sucks in a sharp, cold breath. "What'll it be?" Gabriel asks quietly.

Sam fixes him with a quizzical expression. "What?"

Gabriel says matter-of-factly, "Tagalongs, Thin Mints, Do-Si-Dos?"

Sam lets out something embarrassingly similar to a whine and cups the angel's cock through his skirt. "Stop talking," he growls. Gabriel gives him a sinfully demure pout, even as he leans into Sam's palm.

"Just answer the question, Sam," he insists. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Fine. Tagalongs. You're fucking annoying, you know that?" he concedes with a sigh. Gabriel is nearly trembling with the joy of victory.

"Helloooo? Trickster!" he sing-songs, and the very next second there's a cookie held delicately between his teeth. "Take it," he instructs, the words barely comprehensible with his jaw tensed and lips parted.

"Why?" Sam laments, recoiling from the peanut-butter cookie an inch from his face. "Just, _why_?"

Gabriel arches his brow warningly and nudges Sam's leg with his stockinged knee. Sam grudgingly leans in and bites the cookie in half. The angel grins around the peanut buttery half in his mouth.

"You're a brat,” Sam remarks, as he chews and swallows the admittedly delicious cookie.

"And you,” Gabe retorts, “are a bitch."

Sam scoffs. "Excuse me, but which one of us is wearing a skirt right now?"

"Kiddo, you do realize I'm an angel, right? No gender," Gabriel reminds him, with a heaping spoonful of sass. "Besides, I could be wearing a tutu and pigtails and you'd still my bitch."

Sam can hardly argue, as Gabriel swiftly whirls them both around, switching positions so that it's Sam pressed into the door. He'd never admit it, but the constant battle for dominance is one of the things he loves most about their relationship. And for the most part, Gabe plays fair-- he could easily overtake Sam every time, but he lets the hunter win just often enough to keep the competition going.

"So, what'll it be, Sam?" the angel whispers, his voice a rough, tingly hum against Sam's throat. Gabe has lifted ever so slightly into the air, his feet hovering inches from the tile. Somehow, Sam suspects the angel isn't asking him about cookies this time.

"You said I'm the bitch," Sam replies, with a coy softness, "so show me why."

Gabriel doesn't hesitate. He flicks his wrist and their clothes vanish; his fingers are stroking wetly into Sam's hole in seconds. It's a little painful, but Sam knows the angel won't hurt him—he simply couldn't. Soon the pain yields to a warm, fantastic pressure; Sam moans and writhes against it, shamelessly desperate to intensify the sensation.

"You're such a fucking slut, Sammy," Gabriel purrs, his voice thick. "Such a good little whore for me. You want it bad, don't you, kiddo?"

Sam's mouth falls open and promptly clamps shut again, the words failing to piece together properly. It feels so, so good now, and vaguely, distantly Sam can make out Gabriel's satisfied chuckle. The angel withdraws his fingers, and before Sam can sufficiently process the sense of emptiness, Gabriel's cock is shoving into him. Sam cries out, sweating against the door and holding fast to Gabe's hips for stability. Gabriel pumps into him without much preamble, and reaches down to hitch up the hunter's leg, hitting an angle that makes Sam shout, his knees buckling. Gabriel, clearly exhibiting angelic strength, keeps him more or less standing as he plows into Sam's ass, murmuring filthy nothing-sentences against Sam's lips as the hunter pants and moans.

"Fuck, Sam, you like this, don't you? You love being my gorgeous little ragdoll, my sweet, pretty fuck-toy. It feels good, doesn't it? You want to be fucked so hard you can't stand up," he mutters, his lips brushing Sam's with a tantalizing lightness. The hunter nods barely in agreement, in rapturous defeat. He should fight this—he should be indignant. But the striking of the angel’s cock against that heavenly spot inside him is deliriously good, and he decides it’s worth the minor humiliation of being made the angel’s bitch.

"So good," he murmurs, "harder, Gabe. Make it hurt."

Gabriel groans at this and pounds into his ass, one hand coming down to wrap itself around Sam's cock, stroking him fast and hard until Sam is coming, hips twitching, and his scream is swallowed by Gabriel's mouth. Stroking cruelly over the come-slick head of Sam's softening, oversensitive dick, Gabe gives a few more violent thrusts and then he comes, emptying himself into Sam and mumbling elatedly, "Good boy, good boy, such a good boy."

Breathless and faintly weak, Sam says, "You can keep the outfit. Just promise you won't use it outside the house, okay?"

Gabe bites his lip to hold back a mischievous smirk. "Too late. I kind of already visited the neighbors. I couldn’t resist."

Sam isn't even particularly surprised, but even if he had been, he's too blissed out to care. "And?" he prompts exasperatedly.

"They bought some Thin Mints."

"You need to get a hobby."

"This _is_ a hobby!"

Sam begins to argue, then stops himself. He smiles suddenly. "I fucking love you, freak."

"I love you, too, kiddo. Still gonna teach me how to tie a knot?”

Sam sighs and brushes a stray piece of sweat-damp hair back from Gabe’s cheek. “Sure.”

 


End file.
